The Bike
by maemay81
Summary: Just a oneshot of House getting Wilson to ride his bike. Rated T for mild language.


"House! Where's my car?" Wilson nudged him again and got a groan from the sleeping man. "House!" Wilson rips the pillow out from under him and is rewarded with a curse and a very awake House.

"I don't know where your damn car is. Now give me back my pillow." He makes a move for it but Wilson moves it out of the way before he can reach it. House rolls his eyes and sits back against the headboard. "Isn't it where you parked it?"

Wilson makes an exasperated noise and puts his hands on his hips. "I don't know where I parked it because I was drunk and _you_ drove me here. Now, where is my car?" One hand moves to his forehead where he rubs at his temples. House can be so infuriating.

"Fine. The helpless cripple will show the big strong man were his damn car is." House moves toward the end of the bed and dangles his legs over the edge, wincing the whole way. He reaches for his vicodin and downs a pill then stands. He eyes Wilson still standing there. "Do you mind?" He makes a show of gesturing to himself then the room at large. Wilson rolls his eyes and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Five minutes later, House emerges with jeans, rock tee, and sneakers. He limps past Wilson and heads outside. Wilson stands outside and leans against the building, watching House's gait turn from annoyed to angry back to annoyed. He then goes back inside, muttering the whole way. Wilson gestures angrily and follows.

"House." He watches as House goes back into his bedroom and slams the door. "I'm going to be late for work. I don't have time for your stupid mind game of find Wilson's car." He wanted to add some other choice phrases but House reemerges with his back pack and leather jacket on. He looks at the floor then back at Wilson with a grin on his face. A nasty grin, Wilson thinks. Then he gets it.

Pointing a finger at House, he said, "No. No, no, no, no. I am not riding on that death trap you call transportation. The way you drive, I'll lucky to get there _alive_." House is really grinning now. "So what happened to my car?"

House takes a step toward him that grin still plastered on his face. "I'll only tell you, if you let me take you to work." There was a glint in his eyes now, not good. Wilson narrows his eyes.

"We're not in kindergarten. This isn't about giving a piece of chocolate in return for a toy, House." He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me what you did with my car."

"No can do. I've laid out my stipulations." House made a show of looking at his watch and headed for the door. "If you don't mind, I'm going to be late for work." Wilson throws his coat on, grabs his bag and runs after House.

House puts his cane in its holder and straddles the bike then revves the engine just as Wilson shoots out the door. Glaring daggers at House, Wilson walks over to the bike. House throws his helmet at Wilson who in turn shoves it on his head and climbs on the back. House shoots him a particularly nasty grin and shoots out of the parking spot, Wilson barely hanging onto House's belt loops.

"God, Wilson, trying to make me throw up?" House throws at him as they stop at a light. He then pries Wilson's fingers from his belt loops and then moves Wilson's arm so they're wrapped around his middle and Wilson's leaning against his back. "Much better." Wilson wonders at this but before he can form a sentence, they're speeding through town again.

On the freeway, House weaves in and out of traffic going at least 70 making Wilson hold on for dear life, thinking they're gonna die, the whole way. Finally they reach the parking lot and House zooms into his parking spot and kills the engine. Wilson sighs gratefully and practically jumps off the bike.

"Damn it, House. I am never getting on that thing again. Now tell me what you did with my car." House unhooks his cane and gets off the bike slowly, making Wilson go completely mad.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I double parked it last night. Apparently, they don't enjoy that kind of thing. Probably got towed." He makes a mock pitying face. "You've got the worst luck." Then heads inside and all Wilson can do is gape after him.

The bastard.


End file.
